A Change in the First Position
by The Lightning Flash
Summary: No matter the time or place, some things never change. Bad first impressions included. A modern day, ballet AU oneshot for Janther Week 2018.
1. Chapter 1

Jane and The Dragon and related characters are the property of Martin Baynton and Weta.

This fic was written for day one of Janther Week 2018.

Prompt: Metanoia

* * *

"I get that he's talented, but does he have to be such a dick about it?" Jane stabbed her straw into the lemon wedge at the bottom of the glass. Half-melted ice cubes tinkled brightly and soda water fizzed in stark contrast to her mood.

"Jane!" Gasped Pepper, scandalised. "Someone might hear you!"

Jane glanced around the almost empty bar. It was early evening, late afternoon, really, way too early for most patrons. She didn't recognise any of the few faces she saw. No doubt Pepper's concerns were unfounded, but she lowered her voice slightly as she continued.

"I'm just saying, he's so arrogant. He stalks through the halls with his nose in the air. I don't know why anyone puts up with him!"

"He does take things seriously," Pepper conceded. "But the man _can_ dance!"

Sure, Jane had to admit there was no lack of ability in Gunther Breech. She had heard of him before she had even transferred to the Royal Kippernium Ballet Company, but who hadn't? He was the youngest Principal dancer in the company's history. Although personally she found his performances a bit emotionally stilted, there was no denying his technical ability. His gravity-defying leaps across the stage had earned him the nickname of 'the Blackbird,' partly in reference to his dark hair.

Jane thought of the nicknames her hair had earned her over the years. None of them were flattering.

"He's just so-so-ugh! Stuck-up, self-absorbed, and . . . blech!"

"Not to mention good-looking," teased Pepper with a sly smile in Jane's direction.

Jane refused to take the bait, instead teasing back, "Don't let Drake hear you say that; you'll break his heart."

Pepper made a dismissive noise at the mention of her 'special friend,' even as colour rose in her cheeks.

Personally Jane was a huge fan of the two creatives together. Pepper was an excellent seamstress and costume designer, and Drake was unparalleled at set design. They both worked at the ballet company and their shy interactions had most of the dancers eagerly hoping for the two to become official.

"And actually," said Pepper haughtily. "Drake and Gunther get on rather well."

"Really?" Asked Jane in surprise. "I never see him talking to anyone. I thought Gunther didn't _have_ any friends."

"Not everyone makes friends as easily as you do, Jane," said Pepper reproachfully. "He may not be the most outgoing soul ever but that doesn't make him a bad person."

"I haven't made that many friends since I moved here, but I'm glad you're one of them!" Jane put her arm around Pepper's shoulders and gave a quick squeeze.

"Well, me too," Pepper smiled forgivingly. "But I do wish you'd be a little kinder to Gunther. He needs to get out more. Dancing is his whole life."

"Oh, Pepper!" Jane laughed. " _Every_ dancer says that, even me!"

"No, it really is!" Pepper lowered her voice and leaned towards Jane as she started telling secrets. "His father owns a national grocery store chain. Gunther was supposed to take over managing it when he was done with school, but he chose ballet instead. His father disowned him, and he was all the family Gunther had in the world! Can you _imagine_?" Pepper shook her head in sorrow as she recounted Gunther's tragic history.

Jane sighed. "Verbena Salter, you are too good for this world." Pepper 'tutted' at the use of her real name but Jane continued. "But for your sake I promise I will _try_ to be civil with him. Now I really need to head off soon so let's talk about something more cheerful than Gunther Breech's sorry life story. Tell me what you have planned for _Giselle_?"

Pepper's face lit up as she began talking about tulle, satin and lace. This was to be her first time as head costume designer and Jane knew she was nervous about it.

"It's going to look amazing," she reassured her friend. "As long as we have a Giselle to dance around!"

The biggest piece of gossip going around the company at present was Prima Ballerina Gwendoline Ankarcrona's injured ankle. All of her medical needs (and a few more besides, Jane suspected,) were being met by the Company's main Patron, Caradoc Kippernook, a man of old money. It was beginning to look like she would not be recovered in time to dance the main role in the major production.

"I was so looking forward to sharing the stage with her," Jane pouted. "She's so lovely!"

"I know, Petal," said Pepper sympathetically. "I was so nervous the first time I had her for a fitting, I was sure I would stab her with a pin. But she was so calm and gentle; it's no wonder they call her the Queen!"

Jane hummed in agreement, before checking the time on her phone.

"Whoops! C'mon, we'd better go. I don't know about you but I have an early start tomorrow."

Pepper nodded, gathering her jacket and purse. Jane slid off the bar stool and offered her friend an arm.

"I'll walk you to your car," she said, and the two girls pushed their way out into the dimming light of the evening.

A group of rowdy young people brushed past them, making their way into the bar, their night just beginning.

"We certainly live a different lifestyle than most people our age," observed Pepper, apparently reading Jane's thoughts.

"I know, but I wouldn't have it any other way," replied Jane, before adding with a cheeky grin, "Afterall, dancing is my life!"

* * *

The sun was barely creeping over the horizon the next morning when Jane arrived at the Royal Kippernium Ballet Company and made her way inside. The building was unlocked and would soon be filled with the voices of dancers and instructors, but for now the hallways were quiet. Jane slipped into one of the smaller practice spaces, shrugging out of her oversized hoodie and sitting down on the cool timber floorboards to change her shoes.

She enjoyed starting her days warming up alone, even if it meant she had to get up earlier than necessary. She had transferred from her previous company a few months ago now and was gradually getting to know everyone at Kippernium but it was nice to have some time to just move, without having to make conversation and deal with the social complexities of being the New Girl.

Piling her unruly mop of hair into a messy bun Jane made her way over to the small audio system and plugged in her iPod, setting it to shuffle though her 'dance' playlist. She began with stretches as music filled the stark room, before moving to the barre and cycling through positions which came with the ease of a lifetime of practice.

Clearing her mind, she focused on the music and movement, the freeing feeling that came with stretching her muscles, ready for a day of hard work. Strangely for Jane it was always warming up that reminded her how lucky she was to be able to do this for a living. She had grown up watching videos of ballerinas moving with seemingly effortless grace across the screen. Her parents had taken her to see a live performance for her sixth birthday, and she had stared transfixed as they spun, leapt and flew over the stage, strength in every movement. That night had truly cemented things in Jane's mind. She was going to do that.

Granted, it hadn't come easily. Jane was not a graceful child. In fact, she often had her dance teachers despairing as she tripped over her own feet, but each failure had made her more determined to succeed.

Now Jane knew that a ballerina's grace was in no way effortless. It was pure hard work and bloody-mindedness, and that was what made her proudest to be one. She had seen dancers dance their best work on a broken foot before leaving the stage to collapse in agony. It _was_ her life, and that was why it was her livelihood.

Even still, a large part of her success so far had been luck, and the support of her parents. Sure her dad had been a little disappointed that she wouldn't be following him into accounting and taking over the family business, and maybe her mum had had misgivings about the lifestyle and physical stress, but in the end they had backed her all the way. Jane couldn't think of a single major performance they had missed, from her stage début as a child through to every opening and closing night of her professional career.

The idea of being disowned by them for following her passion was incomprehensible to her.

Jane paused. Where had that come from?

Shaking her head she stepped away from the barre and began moving freely around the room.

Gunther Breech's problems with his father were no excuse for his poor attitude. Jane had been genuinely excited to meet him when the Company's principle director Theodore Boarmaster had introduced them, but her enthusiasm had dimmed when exposed to his withering gaze. It had died a quick death in the days after when he had ignored her entirely.

She couldn't despise him completely, however. Watching him dance still sent a thrill through her. Good God the man could move. Watching him lift Gwendoline as though she weighed nothing, moving with her across the stage . . . There was true beauty there. His technical abilities were unparalleled, but his emotional depth was definitely similar to that of a car park puddle.

Jane smiled a little ruefully to herself as she remembered all the times she had been told she danced too much with her heart and too little with her head.

Gunther Breech, she felt, danced entirely too much from his head.

The music changed and _Le Cygne_ floated through the room. Jane pushed all thoughts of Gunther from her mind and began to perform the Dying Swan, her favourite short solo.

She may not have been the picture of an elegant swan with her messy hair, black tights and leotard and occasional sloppy footwork, but Jane lost herself in the music, the movement, and the empty room.

The song finished and Jane sat up from the floor, noticing a shadow cross the glass door of the room as she did so.

"I guess the others are here," she said softly to herself, standing up and unplugging her iPod. Sure enough a few moments later one of the other girls, Daisy, poked her head through the door.

"The Teddy wants us in the Drill Hall," she said, before moving on to gather up any other dancers.

Jane smiled at the affectionate name some of the girls used for Theodore, although never in his hearing. Gathering her belongings she made her way to the much larger main practice room.

* * *

A few days later, the Drill Hall, as it had been named by exhausted dancers generations ago, was abuzz with the voices of almost the entire company. There was going to be an announcement, although no one seemed to know what. Jane could only guess that it had something to do with the lead role of _Giselle_. Would Gwendoline be dancing it? And if not, who? Her gaze drifted to the corner of the room where Gunther was standing with Ivon, Company Jack-of-all-trades and Theodore's good friend, and the Teddy himself.

The two older men were talking quietly and Gunther seemed to be listening intently. His gaze flicked across the massed group of dancers and found hers, holding it briefly before Jane looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring.

" _Daisy said he was watching you practice the other morning, you know?" Pepper had told her over lunch yesterday. "And Issy said she thought he was staring at you in the Drill Hall yesterday."_

" _Maybe he's offended by my hair," Jane had replied, shrugging._

'Has he really been watching me?' She wondered to herself now.

"As you are all no doubt aware, I have some news," Theodore's voice cut through Jane's thoughts and her attention snapped back to the older man. "Unfortunately, Gwendoline will _not_ be dancing with us as Giselle." He announced perfunctorily.

The hall quickly filled with dismayed cries of "Oh no!" and "Not the Queen!" before Theodore raised his hand for silence. He got it immediately.

"This means someone else must take on the role." His sharp eyes examined the room, where dozens of girls held their breath in anticipation. "We will be holding auditions next week. Those who wish to try out are encouraged to have a solo prepared, and you will also dance briefly with Gunther. This is a trying process for all involved so please consider carefully before applying. Thank you."

Jane couldn't help but admire his egalitarian approach to the situation. She knew he liked to offer the young dancers in his care as many opportunities as possible. A role like this could change the life of whoever was lucky enough to win it.

"Will you apply?" asked Pepper, slipping into the space beside Jane and making her jump as she whispered in her ear.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe?" Jane replied as conversation in the room began to rise again. "I mean I'd love to, but . . . ." Her gaze shifted back to Gunther, wondering if she could work that closely with him.

His eyes met hers a second time, but before Jane could look away in mortification he turned to Theodore and said loudly enough for most of the room to hear "The redhead can dance. Audition her."

Jane swallowed as Theodore inclined his head in her direction, and most of the other dancers stared at her too.

"I guess that answers that," she mumbled to Pepper, who giggled beside her.

The Blackbird had spoken, and Giselle might very well have red hair.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. I went to a performance by the Russian Imperial Ballet on their recent international tour and one of the male principals looked like Gunther, so that's basically where this whole thing came from. I'm hoping to do all of Janther week but it probably won't be done in a timely matter, since apparently that's not my style (shocking, I know!) I'm looking forward to seeing everyone else's works!


	2. Chapter 2

**Jane and The Dragon and all Associated Characters are the property of Martin Baynton and Weta.**

 **I would like to dedicate the continuation of this alleged oneshot to Mod Batbladders in gratitude for Janther Week. Thanks for your hard work!**

* * *

"Oh, you must be __joking__ ," groaned Jane, pushing a sweaty curl off her forehead. "Could this day possibly get any worse?"

She turned on her heel to see Gunther Breech leaning against his car with a smirk on his face.

 _ _Okay, yes it can.__

They were outside of her small block of flats, along with all the other tenants. Apparently an alarm had gone off and the building had been evacuated.

"Mrs. Donaldson!" Jane called out, spotting a neighbour from her floor. "When will we be let back in?"

"No idea," said the older woman with a shrug. "Tiffany is coming to collect me now, once she's picked the girls up from school. I might stay there tonight, just to be on the safe side." She gave Jane a pat on the arm in passing.

Jane sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose briefly before plastering on a smile and turning to Gunther.

"Thanks for the lift but you don't have to hang around. I'll just wait until they let us back in. It can't be too long."

"You'll wait out here, like that?" Gunther raised a skeptical eyebrow as he looked her up and down.

Jane counted to three as she bit down a rude retort, trying not to glare at at the calm, collected, clean, freshly showered and changed dancer, before gazing down, reluctantly, at herself.

Sweaty, messy, in desperate need of a shower and change of clothes. It wasn't the first time that afternoon that she had regretted not hitting the showers after training, and she doubted it would be the last.

"Fine," she said at last. "I'll call Pepper."

"No," said Gunther, pushing away from his car. "She is working on my costume tonight and you will not interrupt her for some . . . girly sleepover nonsense."

Jane blinked at him in disbelief. "Then what would you have me do?"

"My place isn't far from here," Gunther shrugged. "You can shower and change there, if you'd like?"

Jane eyed her new colleague warily. It seemed like a genuine invitation, and if they were to be dancing together it wouldn't hurt to get to know him a little better.

"Fine," she agreed. "But no funny business."

Gunther smirked and eyed her once again.

"On my honour," he promised, before getting back into his car.

* * *

The ride to Gunther's was as quiet and uncomfortable as the drive to her own place had been. There was no music and no conversation. Jane stared out the window and recounted the run of bad luck she had experienced that afternoon.

Practice had been . . . tolerable. They had been working on Giselle since the final casting decisions were made, with Jane as the lead and Gunther as Albrecht. There had been many one-on-one sessions between the two dancers under Theodore's supervision, but Jane was still waiting for something to 'click' and she could tell by the older man's growing impatience that Theodore was as well.

Jane glanced across the car at Gunther. He was focused on the road and, as ever, giving away nothing.

Jane was an emotional dancer; she had accepted that fact years ago and turned it to her advantage, but it made dancing with Gunther a difficult task. How could she convince an audience that she was hopelessly in love with a man who gave her nothing? Well, nothing but cold and flawless technical brilliance.

There was no doubt in Jane's mind (although she'd rather die than admit it) that Gunther should be the better dancer of the two of them. His understanding and application of technique was on a level Jane could only dream of. And yet . . . .

Jane huffed at a stray curl and returned her gaze to the buildings whizzing by.

Did he even __like__ dancing?

She had wondered that earlier in the afternoon as she made her way out of the building after another lacklustre session, choosing to skip the showers and head to her own place to unwind.

That was her plan right until the moment when she turned the key in the ignition and her car failed to respond.

When Gunther had emerged twenty minutes later Jane had been on the phone, trying and failing to find a mechanic.

"I really don't know anyone around here yet," Jane had said by way of explanation. "Is there anyone you'd recommend?"

"I'll see if there's anyone available at the place I use," said Gunther, making the call as he spoke.

He hung up after a brief conversation.

"They'll be here in the morning," he said, sounding pleased with himself.

"Tomorrow?" Groaned Jane. "But I'm stuck __now__!"

"That's pretty good service," said Gunther defensively. "Your car is in a safe location and you aren't exactly lost in the woods."

"You're right," sighed Jane. "I'm just impatient. And, you know, stuck."

"What's your address?"

When Jane told him, Gunther had pulled his keys from a pocket and said, "That's on the way to my place. I'll drop you off."

So Jane had found herself, sweaty and flustered, sitting in Gunther's car for the first time that day. Unfortunately for her, things hadn't improved after that.

"Here we are," Gunther said, breaking the silence and shaking Jane from her reverie. They were pulling into a small, secure parking space at the base of another block of flats. This one was larger than Jane's, constructed from textured cement and 1980's brick, with a chain link fence.

Inside the main entry there was a small lobby with an elevator.

"The stairs are faster," Gunther said, making his way towards a door that opened to reveal the first of many flights of stairs.

Jane followed, determinedly keeping pace as they each hauled their duffle bags until he stopped on a landing and opened the door marked with a large number five.

The carpet in the hall was a utilitarian grey, well-worn but clean. Gunther's keys rattled as he unlocked the door to his flat and he ushered Jane inside.

The space was larger than Jane's and open-plan, with a kitchenette exposed to the living area. She spotted a bedroom through an open door, and a closed door hid what she assumed was a bathroom.

It was clean, somewhat industrial looking and very sparsely decorated. The living area held a couch and coffee table, one bookshelf, a small television and very little else.

"Have you just moved in?" Jane asked conversationally, placing her bag on the floor.

Gunther gave her an odd look. "Five years ago."

"How minimalist," replied Jane, noting the mostly bare walls.

There was one black and white photo in a simple black frame, of a ballerina in a romantic style tutu, black hair pulled back into a long ponytail. She was framed by a large window and the bright light obscured her face.

Despite Gunther's profession it seemed an unusual choice for his only decorative statement.

"The bathroom's through there," Gunther motioned at the closed door. "Do you have a change of clothes?"

Jane rummaged through her bag. "Umm, tights and a tank?"

"How organised," he said dryly. "I'll just grab a towel."

When Jane entered the bathroom a few moments later she found a towel and a warm-looking hoodie which she suspected was going to swim on her, although the gesture __was__ rather kind.

"Use whatever you need," Gunther told her. "I'm just heading to the shop on the corner, I won't be long."

"Thanks," said Jane a little awkwardly before closing the bathroom door. She heard the front door open and close again shortly after, and quickly turned on the shower.

She emerged some time later with her hair wrapped in a towel and smelling of Gunther's shampoo. His jumper did indeed swamp her but it was warm and cosy and she hugged it against herself unconsciously as she stepped back into his empty living space.

She wandered over to the bookshelf, and examined the few novels it held. All of Gunther's things were of good quality she observed, running her fingers across the spines. There were just so few of them.

The shelf above the books had a couple of trophies and award plaques, dating back to years ago. The kind handed out at youth competitions. The most recent one was ten years old, and Jane did some mental mathematics. He would have been fourteen when he won that one.

The trophies weren't on display as such. Like everything in Gunther's living space they were simply __there__. Jane had similar things in her old bedroom at her parents' house. They had meant so much when she won them, but had quickly become dust collectors. Jane smiled fondly at the memories they held as she put Gunther's back into place.

She was lost in thought when a sudden noise from the rear of the apartment startled her back to reality. Jane spun around, cursing, as a large black cat slunk through the half-closed bedroom door. It paused when it saw her and blinked slowly, before padding into the kitchen.

"Of __course__ he'd have a cat," Jane muttered to herself, tip-toeing in her socks over to the kitchen and watching it drink from a little water fountain on the floor.

The cat made eye contact with her and continued to drink, apparently not bothered by her presence. When it finished drinking it meowed at her once and then made its' way to the couch, where it curled up, purring.

"Nice to meet you," said Jane softly, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

The cat closed its' eyes and didn't move, which Jane decided was permission granted. She tucked her feet up beside her and removed the towel from her hair, rubbing it over her curls. No doubt she would have a mass of frizz to deal with when it dried, but at least it was clean.

The key turned in the lock of the front door and Jane looked up from under the towel as Gunther let himself in, shopping bag in hand.

"Welcome back," she said, unsure what else to say.

"Thanks," he replied. He looked a little flushed, but Jane supposed he had just been back up five flights of stairs.

"I see you met Shade," Gunther nodded towards the cat, who opened its' eyes and meowed at the sound of his voice, but didn't stir from the couch.

"He frightened the life out of me," said Jane, glad for the subject of conversation.

"Really?" Gunther kicked his shoes off at the door and carried his bag into the kitchen. "I didn't think he had much pounce in him these days. Mostly he just sleeps."

"I just didn't know I had company," Jane shrugged. "He seems to be tolerating me now though."

"Yeah," Gunther agreed with a half smile. "Is chicken okay for dinner?"

"Oh, no, you don't have to cook for me," Jane protested, rising from the couch.

"You're here and I'm not going to make you sit and watch me eat," he pointed out. "I mean, if you're vegetarian or something I can do a salad?"

Jane sat back, smiling. "Chicken is fine. Do you need a hand?"

"No thanks, but Shade would take a pat,"he suggested.

Jane slid over on the couch and rubbed the cat's ears, earning a hearty purr. Gunther worked quietly in the kitchen apart from the occasional clatter of pots and pans, so Jane pulled out her phone and began browsing with her free hand.

She was tempted to text Pepper just to tell her where she was, but Gunther wanted her undivided attention on his costume and Jane decided that as his guest she should oblige. Instead she opened her internet browser and began scrolling through Facebook. A couple of her neighbours were complaining about being shut out of their building, so that answered that question. Growing bored she looked back over at the bookshelf, and the trophies. Curious, she typed Gunther's name and the competition name on his most recent award into Google. A Youtube link popped up at the top of the results and Jane clicked it in surprise, lowering the volume on her phone as it loaded.

She glanced guiltily over at Gunther as he worked in the kitchen and realised with surprise that he had his hair pulled out of his face into a small ponytail. It looked . . . kind of cute?

 _ _Ridiculous, Jane, not cute.__ She told herself firmly, focusing her attention back on her phone as the video began playing.

A very young Gunther walked onto the sage and the camera jostled as the person recording applauded. The quality was not great, but Jane decided it was watchable. The music began playing and Gunther took his opening position, and Jane watched, growing increasingly transfixed as he danced, and soared, and . . . __gave__. Technically the fourteen year old Gunther was miles away from his adult counterpart, but emotionally his performance was incredible, and Jane was lost in the story he told on the stage.

She was on her second watch of the video, fully engrossed, when Gunther's voice beside her startled her into dropping her phone onto the couch.

"You __Googled__ me?"

"It was-I-" Jane placed a hand on her chest to calm herself as Gunther picked up her phone and continued watching the video. "I saw your trophies," she explained weakly.

Gunther nodded, apparently unphased. "Don't ask me how I won, it was a rough performance," he said, before handing back the phone.

"Are you __kidding__ me?" Jane asked, gaping at him. "I want to dance with this guy!"

"You already do?" Gunther looked at her in confusion.

"No, no, __this__ guy," Jane held the phone up at him. "The one who puts his feelings on the stage. I've never seen you dance like this!"

"Well, I'm not fourteen any more," said Gunther slowly. "And not everyone likes emotional male dancers."

" _ _I__ do," said Jane bluntly. "I can't believe you had this gift and you just let it go!"

"I did not __let it go__ ," said Gunther, growing defensive. "I did what I had to do to succeed. I tightened up my footwork."

Jane snorted. "Gunther, your footwork is so tight I'm worried you'll snap off at the ankles. But dancing is storytelling, and this kid had that talent in spades."

Gunther stalked back over to the kitchen, where chicken was sizzling on the stove. He gave the pan a quick stir before grabbing a knife and chopping a carrot. His movements were quick, efficient and practiced, like everything he did.

"What __happened__ to you?" Jane asked eventually. "You might act like it but you're not actually a machine, Gunther Breech."

Gunther sighed, apparently losing hope that Jane would drop the conversation.

"Nothing __happened__ to me," he said eventually, pausing his chopping. "I just grew up."

"Really," said Jane in disbelief. "You grew up into a robot?"

Gunther rolled his eyes and began slicing a celery stick.

"Sure, I'm a robot," he gestured expansively. "And this is my robot home."

"Well, I mean . . . ." Jane looked around the empty space, lost for words.

Gunther laughed, surprising her.

"Okay, okay, you've got me there," he admitted, putting down the knife. He poured two glasses of water and carried them over, handing one to Jane.

"If you must know," he said, sinking down onto the couch beside her. "My father didn't want me to dance. When I refused to give it up he cut me off. Luckily for me Theodore was willing to keep teaching me. He and Ivon helped me find somewhere to live and Ivon even taught me how to cook. Because of them I was able to survive, and because of my father my drive to succeed, well, it became all-consuming." Gunther shrugged. "I wanted to prove to him that he was wrong, that I was meant to dance. So I practiced, and practiced, and practiced. To be honest, Jane, I don't remember when I last danced because I enjoy it."

He sat his glass on the coffee table and looked at her. "Don't get me wrong though, I love dancing, honestly. I just . . . lost something along the way. And I'm not sure if I can get that back."

He stood up and walked back to the kitchen, stirring the contents of the pan and then adding the chopped vegetables.

Jane watched Gunther as he cooked, steam swirling around him. There was a sadness about him, she realised. The reserved air that she had attributed to haughtiness was in fact isolation. The boy who had been cut-off and obsessed with success had become a man who was cut-off and alone. His flat was used for eating and sleeping and little else. Dancing really __was__ his life.

Jane sighed. __Okay Pepper, you win.__

"I'm sorry for prying," she said, joining him in the kitchen and leaning against the island bench.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you heard most of it from Pepper already," he gave her a smile.

"A little," Jane admitted, returning his smile with one of her own. "But I never thought about how it would have affected your dancing. To be honest I'm not sure I'd have had the courage to give up everything the way you did."

"Really?" Gunther looked at her. "I've seen you dance, Jane. There's no doubt in my mind."

Jane shrugged. "Maybe."

"You have the something that I lost, Jane. I mean, technically you could use some work, but you have enough passion for both of us. That's why I wanted to dance with you."

Jane resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the back-handed compliment. "Our strengths are different, Gunther, sure. But I can't carry the emotion for you, and you can't carry the technique for me. I'm sure you've noticed that __isn't__ working out in practice."

"I know Theodore has," he conceded. "Do you have any suggestions?"

Jane hummed in thought. "If __I__ have the passion you've lost and __you__ have the technique I need, then we should do some kind of swap, I guess."

"A __swap__? We're not talking about trading cards here, Jane."

"I do realise that," she huffed. "An exchange of knowledge, then. You tutor me, I tutor you-that sort of thing."

"You're going to tutor me in emotions?" Gunther raised an eyebrow.

"I have my ways," Jane shot back with a grin. "Unless you think my footwork is too far gone for even the great Blackbird to correct?"

Gunther didn't respond to her teasing, instead studying her face for a few moments before wiping his right hand on a tea towel and offering it to Jane.

"Deal," he said, grasping her hand in his, and Jane began to wonder what she had gotten herself into.


	3. Chapter 3

**Jane and the Dragon and all associated characters belong to Martin Baynton and Weta.**

"I don't know why I'm here," Gunther grumbled.

"Because I'm your tutor and this is your assignment," Jane told him firmly, biting down on a smile as he huffed impatiently.

She was beginning to learn that the Blackbird was all pout and no peck, although his precious ego would be bruised if she said so out loud. Instead she opted to smooth his ruffled feathers.

"I'm glad you could come," she told him. "And I know Drake is relieved, too!"

They both glanced at the nervous set designer as he fiddled with his tie. He was rather over-dressed for an evening of clubbing with friends, but Jane supposed that had something to do with the last member of their party, who was yet to arrive.

"The sooner Pepper gets here the sooner we can leave them to it," said Gunther, rather unsympathetic to his friend's nerves.

Gunther was dressed more casually, in a deep grey button-up shirt and black jeans, his hair tussled just so. Jane had to admit he looked pretty good, and she wasn't the only one to think so, although the admiring glances from other club patrons seemed to be escaping his notice. Jane supposed he was used to being stared at, although they were currently leaning against a bar and not on stage, and the flashing lights of the club were less than effective spotlights. The dim lighting still had a flattering effect on his brooding countenance, much to Jane's irritation.

She tugged at the sleeve of her off-the-shoulder green dress and wished that Pepper would hurry up. Jane knew she was lucky that her friend was coming at all, given the last-minute invitation. Jane had organised the evening out that afternoon after learning that Theodore was focusing on the corps de ballet the next day and so she and Gunther would have no training obligations.

"Here," Gunther was saying, handing Drake a drink. "Have this."

The two dancers watched in both amusement and disbelief as Drake took the cup in a shaking hand and sculled the contents, coughing as he finished.

Gunther was giving him a firm thump on the back when Pepper arrived at last, breathless and stunning in a sparkling lavender dress, her hair arranged artfully atop her head.

"You look lovely, Petal," she said, greeting Jane with a side-hug.

"You look gorgeous," Jane told her in response. "I wish my hair was so well behaved!"

"I did my best considering the short notice," said Pepper, a touch reproachfully. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about?"

Jane stepped aside and allowed Pepper to see her other two companions. The costume designer's jaw dropped.

"You're here with __Gunther__?" She gasped.

"We're just here to train," said Jane dismissively. " _ _You__ are here with Drake."

Pepper's eyes, now fully adjusted to the dark interior, focused on her crush.

"Jane-!" She began, but was cut off when the redhead gave her a firm push in his direction, the sudden movement catching his attention.

"P-P-Pepper!" Drake squeaked.

"Hello, Drake," Pepper replied softly, and both of them blushed madly.

"Aren't they cute?" Jane whispered to Gunther.

"Adorable," replied Gunther with a roll of his eyes. "Can I go home now?"

"Of course not!" Said Jane impatiently. "We actually have tomorrow off, and we are making the most of tonight."

"This is not my idea of a good time, Jane," he told her flatly.

"That's because you don't know __how__ to have a good time, and it is my job to remind you," Jane pointed out. "C'mon!" She grabbed his hand and began pulling him towards the dance floor. "Time to warm up."

"What? Jane, no way!" Gunther protested, planting his feet firmly on the floor and stopping Jane short. "I can't dance like that."

Jane rounded on him. "We have a deal, Gunther! I have been following your instructions to the letter and now it's your turn."

Gunther grit his teeth before sighing in defeat. "Fine. But I __will__ find a way to incorporate public humiliation into your training." He threatened.

Jane simply smiled victoriously and resumed tugging him along behind her.

"Do you know why I choose this club?" She called over her shoulder as they pushed through the crush of bodies. "Drake knows the DJ, and he's going to play some special requests tonight!"

She giggled as Gunther groaned in anticipatory dread.

* * *

"What was the point of this, again?" Gunther asked wearily as they were pushed about by the other dancers on the floor.

"Just __relax__ , Gunther!" Jane groaned. "Honestly, do you even know how?"

"Not in here," Gunther gave her a pointed look.

"Okay, fine, give it one more song and if you're still not feeling it we'll go get a drink," she promised. "Have you really never done this before?"

"At what point in my training schedule would I have made space for jumping up and down with a group of strangers? Ugh, none of whom have any amount of coordination!" He added as two very tipsy girls bumped into him. "If I get injured you are explaining it to Theodore."

"If you'd just relax a bit you'd find it much easier to go with the flow," Jane told him, taking his hands in hers and shaking his arms in an attempt to loosen them up. They remained rigid until Jane glared at him, at which point he bent his elbows.

"Oh my goodness," Jane laughed in frustration. "If you're not going to try then there's no point to any of this!"

"I truly do not understand what you want from me," said Gunther miserably, and Jane could see he meant it.

"Okay, okay," she said, calming down. "Here."

She placed his arms over her shoulders and put hers around his waist, pulling him closer to her.

"Forget the other people. Listen to the music and move with it. You don't have to jump up and down, just move." She instructed.

He did as she ordered, moving stiffly from side to side in their limited space.

"Okay, good," said Jane encouragingly. She began tapping the beat of the music against his back with one hand as they shuffled together. "Now __feel__ it, Gunther. Your body wants to dance, so just let it."

"Is there a routine?" He asked hopefully.

"No Gunther," Jane tried to keep the amusement from her voice. "We're doing this freestyle."

She felt his sigh as his chest pressed against hers but continued to move in sync with him, refusing to give up.

"Feel the beat, Gunther," she said, moving her hand to his chest and continuing to tap the rhythm against him. "You were __made__ for this." She added encouragingly, meeting his eyes. "Trust me."

"Fine," he replied, sighing again before closing his eyes.

His cheeks were flushed and there was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead from the heat of the crowd around them. This flustered look was new to Jane and, if she was honest with herself, disarming and a little endearing.

They continued to move in simple steps, Jane's hand tapping out the rhythm while Gunther kept his eyes closed. Gradually his knees began to soften and the hard lines of his danseur's posture eased into a more comfortable embrace.

They began stepping forwards and back into a lazy rumba-like motion, with Jane continuing to echo Gunther's steps and count the beat against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat easing as he relaxed and focused on the music and movement, but Jane wasn't sure hers was responding in the same way.

She had been in his arms countless times already, as they were practicing together almost daily, but it was never anything like this. He was open to her at last, allowing her past his perfect façade and revealing the flawed man within. There was an inherent intimacy to what they were doing that Jane felt could easily overwhelm her. Instead she focused on keeping her breathing even, and on their movement.

They were not dancing to the music as such- an upbeat, poppy tune that Jane was barely hearing any more, but to the underlying beat. No doubt to any observer they looked completely out of place slow dancing in the midst of a throng of clubbers, but Jane was thrilled. It was progress, actual progress! She gave Gunther an encouraging squeeze with the arm that remained around his waist and an acknowledging hum rumbled through his chest and against her hand, quickening her pulse.

Gunther danced on, unaware as Jane turned her face from his to hide her own blush.

She was beginning to feel like a schoolgirl at her first dance, and it didn't help when she caught sight of Pepper smirking at her through the crowd.

Gunther released his hold on Jane and took her hand instead, stepping away from her before drawing her back towards him. They repeated this a few times, separating and coming together again like beginners in a ballroom class, but the simplicity of the motions made it no less thrilling when Gunther met her gaze and then spun her once under his arm.

Jane could feel the grin on her face and didn't even try to fight it as he pulled her back in and held her again. They were dancing, actually, finally __dancing__.

She glanced up and saw the tiniest of smiles on Gunther's face.

 _ _At last.__

The music began to transition from one song to another and Gunther faltered at the new beat. Jane was ready to curse the bad timing when she recognised the new song, and clapped her hands with glee instead.

"This is one of mine!" She crowed.

"You're __kidding__ ," replied Gunther. "How embarrassing."

"Hey, this is a great song, and we are dancing to it," said Jane, poking him in the chest as Whitney Houston's __I Wanna Dance With Somebody__ began vibrating through the speakers.

"We may be the only ones," Gunther pointed out as many of the younger patrons exited the floor, confusion on their faces.

"More room for us," shrugged Jane, unperturbed.

They were not the only ones left, with many recognising the tune and bouncing excitedly, but Jane had enough room around her now to step several paces away from Gunther and then pirouette quickly back towards him. She brought her feet neatly into the third position and smiled smugly at him, issuing a challenge.

Gunther's eyebrows shot up when he realised what she was wanting.

"I can't dance ballet to . . . __this__ ," he protested.

"Oh dear, the great Blackbird is undone by a tiny bit of contemporary music. How __very__ tragic." Jane pouted tauntingly before pirouetting away again, one arm extended, gauntlet thrown.

Her smirk exploded into a grin as she felt him catch her wrist, and then she was being drawn backwards until her back met his chest.

"I never said that," he said, lips at her ear.

Jane shivered lightly as she was swept, off-guard, into a messy fish dive.

"Tsk, tsk, what sloppy technique," Gunther taunted, smiling smugly as he placed her back on the floor.

"I have a new teacher for that," she assured him, before twisting out of his grasp. "He told me he's quite good, but I'm waiting for him to prove it." She added, teasing him mercilessly now.

She struck a pose, one arm extended above her head, the other out towards him, and watched in amusement as Gunther battled with his pride.

His pride won, naturally.

He took her hand and his own pose, glowering at her. Jane winked back in response, revelling in her victory.

Then they began dancing, traditional ballet moves transforming into an irreverent pas de deux come cheesy dance movie routine. People began moving aside as the pair made use of the floor, some even stopping their own dancing to watch.

Exhilarated, Jane threw her arms wide as Gunther's hands found her waist and he took her sailing over the floor. His jeans and street shoes were limiting his movement and forcing him to adjust, strict training and muscle memory yielding to a more casual style of motion.

He placed Jane back on the floor and spun her to face him, before dancing her ballroom-style back to their starting point. When they arrived he dipped her low, making her laugh.

He was putting on a show now -well they both were- as performers tended to do; but Jane suspected, and even dared to hope, that he was enjoying it.

The song began to draw to a close and Gunther stepped back several paces, before nodding at Jane, laying down his own challenge.

She understood his meaning instantly and drew in a sharp breath. They had practiced it so many times in the controlled conditions of the studio, but this was a very different scenario.

" _ _Trust me__ ," he mouthed the words to her and Jane drew in another breath before nodding.

She took off running towards him, jumping as she drew near and he caught her, using her momentum and lifting her easily over his head. He held her high for a full, slow spin before lowering her gently to stand in front of him.

The music transitioned to a new song and people clapped, some even patting them on the back as the dance floor filled and bodies jostled around them once more, but Jane's attention was occupied by Gunther.

His smile, to be exact.

It was radiant, and it was focused on her.

"Thank you," he said eventually, before cupping her cheek and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Any time," replied Jane, unsure what else to say.

"Now can we __please__ get out of here?"

Jane laughed, and allowed him to lead her from the floor.

They found Pepper and Drake huddled together over Drake's sketchpad as they made their way to the door.

Pepper was blushing prettily over something Drake had drawn, and Jane paused to squeeze her shoulder in parting. The costume designer's eyebrows shot up in surprise as she took in Gunther holding tightly to Jane's other hand, but Jane couldn't find it in her to be embarrassed. Perhaps later, but right now she was riding high.

Gunther lead her out of the club then and into the cool night air. He released a sigh of relief and ran his free hand through his hair, tousling it just so, before turning to look at Jane. He was still smiling.

"Now what?" she asked, beginning to feel the chill.

"I have a key to the school," he replied. "We could go practice, if you wanted?"

Jane returned his smile with one of her own.

"Sure," she said.

After all, dancing was their life.

* * *

It's probably pretty clear by now but I am definitely not a dancer! I hope you enjoyed this little piece of trash, I had fun writing it.


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